I confess that within the last week I’ve done a lot of vacillating on the question of whether Taiwan’s President Chen Shui-bian is guilty of corruption. (My initial reaction can be found here.) From the start, I realized that the people trying to bring him down were pretty contemptible – nothing but communist sellouts who’ve been fishing for six years for a pretense to get rid of him.
But that doesn’t mean he’s innocent.
I understood that the money involved is far less than the pay cut he voluntarily imposed upon himself, and the slush fund he abolished.
Still doesn’t mean he COULDN’T have taken the money.
I mean, his wife submitted personal JEWELRY receipts for reimbursement from the State Affairs Fund, for Pete’s sake. The prosecutor knows her RING FINGER SIZE. Even the most dyed-in-the-wool Chen supporter had to admit it looked a little shady. Which is why I think Michael Turton’s recent defense of President Chen is so important.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the situation, I should give a little background. Because the Republic of China (Taiwan) isn’t regarded as a sovereign nation by many countries, it pays a premium to those who secretly lobby for its recognition. Because of the military threat from communist China, it hires spies within that country to keep abreast of the danger. And because the current Taiwanese government is democratic, it secretly funds certain pro-democracy activists who live across the strait.
For many years, part of the funding for all of these covert lobbyists, spies and democratic agitators came directly from Taiwan’s presidential office. This arrangement is a bit unusual – most established democracies probably fund and manage these sorts of people through their spy agencies. But Taiwan was once a dictatorship, and its previous dictators sought unfiltered information and direct control. Though Taiwan has since democratized, this is one aspect of its former government which has not yet been fully reformed.
One reform which was implemented came soon after President Chen assumed office. For reasons of transparency, Chen abolished the secret fund that the presidency had at its disposal. In retrospect, this now appears like an unwise undertaking, because Taiwan’s need for secrecy in its foreign policy remained as strong as ever. But what is inexplicable was Chen’s failure at that time to hand over the responsibilities for covert missions to Taiwan’s intelligence apparatus. Instead, Chen decided he would continue to pay for covert intelligence and diplomacy with the only means he had left at his disposal: public funds.
As Michael points out, this created an insoluble dilemma. Use of public funds need to be accounted for with receipts, but Chinese spies and democratic activists fear far too much for their lives to ever provide them. If such people are to be paid from the "State Affairs Fund", then bogus receipts will have to be submitted. Receipts such as the ones the prosecutor used in his indictments.
So, there it is. None of this precludes the possibility that the President and First Lady skimmed money from the government, but there now exists a perfectly plausible explanation for the existence of all those damning jewelry receipts. Thankfully, those who maintain the president’s innocence need no longer feel foolish for doing so.